I slowly rise to my feet, staring down at him. Anger kindles in my chest, and it’s a spark away from flashing into a full-on forest fire.
“I don’t have to understand shit, D. Only a bitch-made muthafucka would betray those he’s supposed to be loyal to. All you had to do was come to me, to one of us, and tell us what Abena was holding over your head. You’re family. Your mom and sister—they’re family. Do you really think I would’ve let you or them suffer? Why would you want me for your oba if that’s what you believed of me? Nah. I don’t understand shit.” I take a step back from him. “See you in the upper room, ho.”
Before he can blink, I lift my arm again and fire a bullet between his eyes. The smell of smoke, sulfur, blood, and shit saturate the air.
“Gotdamn, I hate that part.” Sienna wrinkles her nose. “Death ain’t dignified, sis.”
“Whose turn is it to clean up?” Kenya asks, propping her fists on her rounded hips. “Not mine.”
“I did it last time.” Penn holds up her hands, palms out.
“And I did it the time before,” I throw in.
“That doesn’t count,” Tera snaps. “Only one way for this to be fair. Paper, scissors, rock. C’mon, bitches.”
With a groan, we huddle up in a circle, fists out.
“One, two, three.” We draw our arms back and throw our hands forward.
Seven rounds later, Doc tosses her head back on her shoulders.
“Fuuuuck.”
Cackling, we leave her to it. I push open the door, then step outside and squint against the early-afternoon sun. I inhale a deep breath, one that doesn’t stink of death. Or betrayal. That last one hurts my nose more.
“Where you headed now?” Nef asks me, pulling her car keys from the front pocket of her black jeans.
“Home.” Actually, I plan on heading over to Malachi’s loft and doing a little B and E. It’s been a minute since I rolled around in his sheets. God, that man smells like soap, pain, and bad decisions. Justintoxicating.
Nef nods and heads toward her car. “I’m about to go to the crib and go through the camera footage of the obodo from the past couple of days. See if there’s anything of importance that we need—shit!”
She dives for the ground at the gunshot. A bullet strikes the gravel, kicking up pebbles and dust. On reflex, I drop and scurry for the back of Sienna’s GTO just as another bullet pings off the rear panel. She’s going to be pissed about that.
“The fuck?”Fierce anger at whoever would have balls enough to come for me and mine burns through me. I grab my gun and, sliding the safety off, peek above the trunk and then fire off several rounds in the direction of the shots. They’re coming from the vicinity of the thick trees off the left of the property. “Call out!” I glance to my right and glimpse Nef, face a stone-cold mask, shooting her SIG toward our would-be assassin. Crimson stains her white shirt on the upper arm. “Call out, dammit!”
This time, a chorus of their names ring out. Relief floods me even as I continue pulling the trigger. All of them are safe. I don’t know how I could handle losing one more person…
The gunfire from the trees stops, and the resulting silence is tense, thick. Cautiously, I shift from behind the GTO, still not certain it’s entirely safe.
“Nef,” I call to her, “you good?”
She nods, lowering her weapon and glancing down at her arm. “Yeah. It’s just a graze. I’m good.”
“Eshe!” Tera yells at me.
“Yeah?”
“Who the fuck did you piss off now?”
Isn’t that a good question?
CHAPTER EIGHTThe Huntsman
I swear to fuck, if I had a soul, that shit would be itching.
People call me a psychopath, but only those with real personality disorders could enjoy this kind of shit.
Not the violence. Not the blood. Nah, the two men currently pounding the hell out of each other in the elevated ring, sending flecks of blood splattering on those gathered closest to the podium, have the adrenaline in my veins singing.
